The
next day I went to see my best friend and lawyer. I asked him about
divorces and how they affected finances and assets. He walked me through
matrimonial actions. Essentially, if I divorced her, my wife would get as
much as half to keep her in the lifestyle to which she had become accustomed
while married to me. Utter bollocks. He asked if everything was ok,
I told him it was research for a new book. The protagonist was in a messy
divorce and needed to figure out a legal way to leave his wife with
nothing. He was intrigued.
He
called me the next day. He’d found a way. It was complicated but it
could work. The rules only apply to property or funds acquired during
marriage. If the protagonist found a way to transfer it all to some
trusted third party before the proceedings begun then there would be nothing
for the Court to give her. He could always get it back afterwards.
I mulled it around in my head for almost a month. I called him and told him
what I came up with. He said I was a bloody genius then made a few
changes so it would be perfectly legal. I asked him to draft a sample for
me and charge me for the work. He didn’t want to till I pointed out that
the book might make millions. What are friends for?
By
now, our circle of friends was abuzz with the news that a new novel was in the
works. Our circle of friends which included my wife’s lover and his wife
who fortunately for me was a die-hard fan. Whenever we were at an event
together, she would ask how the book was coming along, at first I would hedge
and refuse to divulge any information then I began to feed her tidbits.
Enough to make her look forward to our next meeting.
Six
months after I caught my wife shagging her best friend, I bought my wife the
new iPhone. It was customary. A new phone here, a new car there,
diamonds and pearls every other month. This was different. I had
installed Google Latitude on the device and connected it to mine before handing
it to her. I now knew everywhere the phone went and she was like a
teenager with her phone, she never put it down.
For
the next few months, I watched my wife diligently, electronically. Every
Wednesday, she spent the afternoon at her lover’s house.
Convenient. He ran a small web design firm out of his home. His
wife was the money in the family. Some of the time, late on Fridays,
she’d drive into odd addresses on the outskirts of London, Liverpool and
Stoke city predominantly. I had them checked out, Hotels.
The
first time I left for the weekend, she stayed home. I told her my story
was based in Scotland and I needed to be in the metropolis for inspiration. She
tried to talk me out of it but drove me to the airport. I waited 15mins
after passing airport security then got a Taxi to take me to one of the hotels
in the city. Her phone was in the house all weekend but he could have
come over for all I knew. The business class flight ticket had cost
me $150 the first of many.
I
started to ‘visit Manchester city’ every other week. Sometimes I would
actually go for a day and take enough pictures for 2 or 3 and return to London.
It wasn’t till the 7th weekend that I made my move. I called her on
Sunday morning. I didn’t let her talk, she didn’t try. I told her I
was in a cab on my way home, I was sure she was in church so I didn’t ask her
to come pick me. I had missed her loads. I was 2 houses away. His
black Honda Accord sped past in less than 5 minutes. …
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